Several months ago, I attended a school fundraiser at the last second to connect with local parents and staff and enjoy a much buzzed about event, the Parent’s Night Out. And because we had plans to travel the following morning, hubby was home packing when I walked into the Glen Cove’s Soundview restaurant, alone.
In general, I don’t have a problem going places by myself. I don’t do it often, but I’m a chatty extrovert so I planned to enjoy the company of Locust Valley parents for a bit, then join hubs in tying up loose ends for our trip.
At the door, I spontaneously bought $20 worth of raffle tickets. When I approached the bags of gifts, I instinctively put two tickets here, two tickets there, and continued to distribute the arms length of tickets into as many prizes that sounded fun to win. Prizes included tickets to Broadway shows, Six Flags, Hershey Park, and even a month of free Pilate’s lessons or something like that. There were a lot of options on the prize table, and my tickets only stretched so far. Then I joined a few friends for a drink.
Before my first sip, I had a light bulb moment and put my glass down and ran back [scooted quickly in heels] to the prize table. And like a kid who runs back and picks something else out of a candy jar, I pulled all my tickets out of the bags. Thank God I wrote my name on them! The person behind me in line looked at suspiciously.
“I’m sorry. I’ll just be a minute. I’m not taking any one’s tickets. I’m just switching my tickets.” All this and the person never even asked me what I was doing.
As quickly as my fumbling fingers could manage, I divided all my tickets in half and put one pile into the Six Flags bag and the rest into the Hershey bag. Those were the only two prizes I really wanted. For the kids of course. So why bother with the other bags at all.
I walked back to the bar, smiling at my genius plan to put all my eggs in one basket. Two really. But as an S.A.T. tutor, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all those probability questions is this: you have to increase the number on the top of the fraction if you want your percentage to rise. In other words, more tickets in less bags increased my chances of winning what I really wanted to win.
At the end of the night, a few lucky parents and teachers went up to pull out winning tickets. Prize after prize disappeared to squealing parents who screamed like they won a Lexus or a Beemer. A few drinks will do that to you. When the M.C. reached for the Six Flags bag, I held my breath. Fail. My name wasn’t called.
Then she lifted up the Hershey Park bag. “For six tickets to Hershey Park this summer, the winning number is 000454…”
“Come on. Just two more digits and—” I’m gripping my stubs like they’re made of gold.
“75.”
“That’s my number!” I raced up to the front, hugged a friend, and gave out a few high fives before the host handed me a plain white envelope and all I thought was: Six tickets to my dream come true—Free Chocolate!
Having lived on the East coast for almost twelve years, I can’t believe we hadn’t visited Hershey Park in PA yet. But we hadn’t. So a week before the kids began school, hubby took a Monday off, and we drove up on a Saturday to French Creek Campground, about an hour and a half from the World of Chocolate. The park is almost four hours from where we live in New York, depending on traffic. Of course.
At six in the morning, rain pounded the RV roof with a torrential downpour and my heart sank. It would have to be a day of indoor shows and a few rounds of the tour on how Hershey makes chocolate. Even on the drive over, the rain kept up, but since we arrived an hour and a half before the gates opened, we were able to park very close to the entrance.
By the time we ate breakfast, packed lunch and a change of clothes and sun blocked each other, the sun began to peek out of the clouds. In an effort to limit bags, I hid my purse in the top cubby, almost forgetting the tickets. Sheesh. But I remembered. Before we started our adventure down the sidewalk toward the scents and sights of chocolate-covered roller coasters. At least, that’s what I expected to find in Hershey.
When our turn to enter arrived, hubby and I split up since he had to buy a ticket for his mom, and I had all the free ones for the girls and us. A park employee checked my backpack and upon seeing the water bottles, she said, “Only one bottle per person. Is that all you have?” I nod but didn’t answer. I couldn’t do the math fast enough. There were seven of us. I thought I had eight or nine bottles. But I didn’t count them. Oh well.
Next she checked Hannah’s bag. Then she took the loaf of whole wheat bread and said, “Sorry. No outside food.”
I protested. “Then, why is there a picnic area on the map?”
“That’s for you to buy Park food and eat it there.”
Made perfectly good sense to me. Not! Oh well. I crossed over with the girls.
Then I looked back at hubby and the guy inspecting his bag was tossing things in the trash, one item at a time. Come to find out, the guy looked in hubby’s cooler and when he saw the layers of Capri Suns, he asked, “Do you have any food in here?”
Hubby got all animated and began listing the picnic menu of the day. “We’ve got ham, and cheese, and whole wheat bread, and we even have spicy Boar’s Head mustard.” If he hadn’t moved the drinks aside, the guy would have never known. Bye bye lunch. Oh well…more room for chocolate.
With two of the girls tall enough to ride the roller coasters in the park, we divide the day with an every other ride approach. Roller coaster. Ride Sarah and Lydia can ride. Roller coaster. Ferris wheel. Roller Coaster. Swings. Another roller coaster. And before we knew it, the sun was blazing and the temperature and humidity were through-the-roof hot. Perfect time to head to the water rides. In fact, this is the reason both hubby and I decided we might actually like Hershey Park better than Magic Kingdom, the other park we got in for free. But that’s another story. I just loved all the water slides and the intricate sprinkler park where we could cool off during the heat of the day.
Then after a late lunch, we spent the last few hours riding every last roller coaster in the park. We might have missed one, but the fact that we went on the Monday that PA schools had their first day gave us short lines, smaller crowds, and a nearly perfect amusement park day.
The strange thing is that as Hubs and I discussed which roller coasters were our favorites, mine was Sky Rush and his was Big Bear [I think,] we realized that roller coasters have really changed since our teenage years. Today, they ride smoother, faster, and include more twists and turns than ever. Then there’s the fact that your feet are dangling in the air which ups the notch on the fear factor the moment you take off. But the thing that surprised me the most was the first rise to the first peek. I recall that uphill taking a very long time when I was kid. The slower you rose, the longer the suspense of the impending downhill had to build inside you. My heart pounded harder with every passing second.
On the coasters we rode at Hershey, it felt like you were at the top so fast, you didn’t have time to digest the fact that you were about to fall off a mountain with little less than a belt around your waist. It was nuts! And on Sky Rush, they clocked the train moving at speeds of 75 miles an hour. I don’t even drive that fast. Usually.
When I think about the summer we just had, with all the ups and downs regarding hubby’s dad’s health, I’m aware that the simple design of a roller coaster describes so much of life in its sine, cosine design. Sorry. That’s the math geek in me slipping out. But it’s true. Life’s a roller coaster. If you choose to get on and live.
When we run up the steps to the Big Bear coaster, I see it. A waterfall. Even though it’s man-made and designed to beautify the Coal Cracker boat ride, I can’t help but stop and gaze for a few seconds. Because with all the roller coasters in life, I can’t imagine my life without the waterfalls. To remind me that His Grace will keep coming. And flowing. And moving. Even when the peeks and falls push us to our emotional and physical limits. My heart chooses to return to the waterfalls time and time again. It’s my way to get refreshed, recharged, and replenished.
And the last thing I want to tell you about our last hoo-rah of summer is something that might shock you. I didn’t eat any chocolate. Honestly. We ran out of time to do the chocolate tour that promises a free sample at the end of it. What can you do? Well, I had to do something to put the exclamation point on the day. So when hubby stopped to fill the gas tank before we began our long trek back to Long Island, I bought a four pack of Dark Chocolate Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups. They’re my favorite. And for the record, I shared. 🙂
**Do you like roller coasters? What’s you’re favorite way to eat chocolate?
**If you LIKED this POST, you MIGHT also LIKE:
or
or
